


Morning Calls

by eggshua (you_lynxed_it)



Series: goodnight calls + morning calls [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - College/University, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, IT'S FINALLY HERE, Long-Distance Relationship, Multi, sequel to goodnight calls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 12:50:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10514121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_lynxed_it/pseuds/eggshua
Summary: Five times Jisoo picks up the phone, and one time he doesn’t.





	

**Author's Note:**

> sequel to goodnight calls (this is pretty much a direct continuation so it would probably help to read the ending of gn calls again maybe if you want idk)
> 
> OK SO i wrote the first half in like september 2016 and here i am just randomly picking it up and writing the second half in april 2017 AND I FUCKED UP SO THE TITLE DOESN’T MAKE SENSE ANYMORE but just think of it like metaphorical morning calls,,,, like just like a thing to keep jisoo awake or smth idk man im too lazy to change it
> 
> i wrote the second half in like 1 hour bc i just wanted to get it out there b4 i put it off until like august 2018 or some crap so here u go

“Hansol? Hansol, where are you?”

There’s nobody snuggled into the bedsheets, or sprawled over the carpet, or snoring on the fancy rolling office chair and on any other day, that would worry Jisoo.

But today, he knows exactly where to find Hansol.

Sure enough, Jisoo finds him on the downstairs couch, sporting an old white Nike cap and a subtle pout. He’s watching the Saturday morning cartoons, which is a miracle considering that he never wakes up early enough to catch them.

“Hansol?”

Hansol’s head shoots up so fast that his cap gets knocked back, revealing messy hair and wide eyes. Jisoo’s lips quirk up.

“Good morning.”

“G-good morning,” Hansol stammers. Jisoo laughs.

“Have you had breakfast?”

“Yeah. I mean.” Hansol scratches the back of his head. “Cheetos?”

“Cheetos are not breakfast,” Jisoo reminds him, setting his backpack on the ground and heading for the fridge. He hears the shuffle of socked feet against the hardwood, and turns around to come face-to-face with the most pathetic expression he’s ever seen on anyone in his life.

“You know, it wouldn’t be, like, bad to delay your flight by a day or so. You wouldn’t miss out on that much, right?”

Instead of replying, Jisoo pulls the milk carton out of the fridge and sets it on the countertop. Next is the cereal, on the top shelf of the left cabinet where Hansol _thinks_ he can’t reach. When he’s got the box in his hands, he turns around again to find two bowls and two spoons laid out in front of him.

“Hansol, I’m not eating.”

“Just a bowl?”

“I don’t want to get carsick. Or airsick, for that matter.”

“It’s just a bowl of cereal.”

“I’ll sit next to you while you eat it, okay? Don’t worry, I won’t be going for another twenty minutes.”

Hansol pulls his cap over his eyes. “I wish you didn’t have to go at all.”

“I know.” Jisoo nudges the cap back again to plant a kiss on his forehead. “I wish you could come with me.”

Hansol doesn’t say anything, but his expression softens and he steps a little closer. Jisoo does the same, and Hansol takes that as his cue to pull him to his chest and rest his chin in Jisoo’s still-damp hair.

“Remember, the landlord’s number is in the green phonebook,” Jisoo mumbles into Hansol’s blue sweatshirt. “Emergency money’s in the white cabinet, second drawer from the top-”

“I know.” Hansol smells like fabric softener and Cheetos and _home_ , and it makes Jisoo’s heart ache a little.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

There’s a long pause. Jisoo takes the time to rest his head on Hansol’s chest, memorizing the sound of his steady heartbeat. _Ba-dum, ba-dum._

“Do you have to go?”

“You know my parents. They want to celebrate Christmas together, as a family and all that.”

“You know, I could come to Korea with you. I have friends there; I’d stay with them. Your parents wouldn’t even have to see my face.”

“Hansol, no. Seriously, it’s only eight days. You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

It’s quiet again. Jisoo pulls back a little and looks Hansol in the eye.

“You’d better not burn the apartment down in those eight days.”

Hansol barely cracks a smile. “I won’t. Promise.”

“Don’t look so glum. I’ll be back. I’m not abandoning you.”

“I know.

The reedy buzz of the doorbell makes them both jump, Jisoo immediately reaching for the backpack on the ground.

“That should be Wonwoo. Can you help me with the luggage?”

Hansol trails behind him silently, dragging the luggage with him as Jisoo hurries to unlock the door.

“Hey,” Wonwoo says.

“Hey,” Jisoo says. After a few seconds, he turns to tell Hansol to greet Wonwoo, only to see a suitcase and no sign of his boyfriend. “Wait- Hansol, come back!”

“Dude, we gotta go.”

“Right.” Jisoo’s heart is sinking to his stomach- oop, and there it goes, right through the floor. “Sorry about that.”

“Nah. Just pass me that suitcase.”

“Alright.”

“Thanks. Got everything?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.” Wonwoo’s walking before Jisoo can even respond, car keys dangling from one hand and suitcase in the other.

“Bye,” Jisoo calls half-heartedly into the apartment, before finally shutting the door.

Wonwoo’s car smells like pine and new leather. Jisoo already misses Hansol’s secondhand Nissan and its unique old-pizza-and-convenience-store-ramen stench. He lets Wonwoo heft the suitcase into the trunk, then makes his way to the backseat with his backpack- only Junhui’s allowed to sit shotgun, and Jisoo doesn’t feel like arguing with Wonwoo right now.

There’s a comfortable silence in the car. Wonwoo and Jisoo have never been the type to make small talk with each other- Junhui and Hansol usually make enough noise for the four of them- but they’ve never been awkward.

“So, Korea, huh?”

“Mhm.”

At least, not until now.

“We’ll drop by and check on Hansol, so don’t worry too much.”

“He’s not a kid.”

“I know he’s not.”

“Chill.”

“Sorry. I guess I’m a little on edge right now.”

“Got it.”

“...And sorry for Hansol being a brat earlier.”

“It’s fine. He’s just mad that you’re leaving.”

“I know. I’ve had to hear him complain for the past week.”

“Well, he’s just-”

“Sorry, my phone’s going off.” Jisoo sticks his hand in the side pocket, the front pocket, and the _front_ front pocket, but it’s not there. Clicking his tongue, he starts to unzip all the little pockets.

“Hansol?”

“I don’t know, I can’t find it.”

“Oh, geez.”

“Just one second.” The phone is buzzing _somewhere_ in his bag but he doesn’t know where and it’s so _frustrating_.

“Do you need me to pull over so you can-”

“No,” Jisoo mutters, “I’ve got this, just- just give me a minute. Ah, there. Hello?”

_“Hey.”_

“Hansol, what is it?”

Jisoo’s ready to snap at Hansol, tell him off for calling and being rude and not saying goodbye but the voice on the other end stops him from saying anything at all.

_“I’m sorry.”_

“Yeah?”

_“Yeah. I guess I was just mad.”_

“Mhm.”

_“And hungry.”_

“M _hm_.”

_“Apologize to Wonwoo for me?”_

“Already have.”

_“Thanks.”_

“Yeah.”

_“I miss you already. Like, a lot. I don’t know how I’m going to do this for eight days.”_

Hansol doesn’t, _can’t_ talk like this in person, but Jisoo appreciates it when they talk like this anyways.

“You’ve lived on your own before you met me.”

_“But you won’t be here.”_

“Hansol, that’s gross.”

_“Yeah, that was a little cheesy. Sorry.”_

Silence. Jisoo meets Wonwoo’s eyes in the rear-view mirror.

_“I miss you. Have a safe flight.”_

“I miss you, too.”

Wonwoo’s incredibly protective of two things- Junhui and his car. Luckily, Junhui’s not here, and tears don’t stain leather seats.

 

* * *

 

 

“The food here is great. I do love your specialties- egg ramen, soy sauce ramen, cheeto dust ramen- but my mom’s homemade roasted duck is just a _little_ bit better.”

_“Alright, alright, I know. My cooking skills aren’t anything to brag about.”_

“I’m just teasing you, ‘sol. I-” Jisoo glances up, hearing the scuffling of plastic slippers, “I appreciate that you cook two days out of the week. Hmm, I wonder who cooks the other five?”

_“Mmm… Junhui?”_

“...Yeah,” Jisoo concedes, watching his mother slide a plate of something chocolatey onto his dresser. “You’re pretty much right.”

_“But his food is so spicy. I really would hide in my room, if Wonwoo wasn’t there to beat me up.”_

“I’d beat you up if you tried to skip Junhui’s meals. He cooks gorgeously.”

_“Not quite sure how to cook gorgeously. But I do know a gorgeous cook.”_

“Is it you?” Pulling the phone away from his ear, Jisoo mouths a ‘thank you’ to his mom.

_“How’d you know?”_

“Lucky guess.”

_“Nice. Anyways, I’ve gotta go. Classes, y’know. Can’t be skipping classes while you’re gone.”_

“Why do I get the feeling that you’ve already skipped your morning class?”

_“Wow. How’d you know?”_

“Again. Lucky guess. Study hard; don’t be late for class.”

_“I won’t. Love you.”_

“Love you, too.”

“That’s cute,” Jisoo’s mother coos as he hangs up. “Girlfriend?”

“...Boyfriend.”

“Right.” Her smile fades a little. “Right. Well, there are brownies waiting here for you when you’re hungry.”

When she leaves, Jisoo takes to Instagram, posting a photo he took earlier- a coffee cup from the Starbucks in Busan, with his name in messy black Sharpie.

_Back in Korea :)_

Within a few seconds, _hansol_c_ has already liked the photo. Jisoo grins, until a new comment catches his eye.

**_c.seung.c.95_ ** _it’s been a while_

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m glad you’re back,” says Seungkwan.

Jisoo puts down his burger cautiously. “I’m… glad to be back?”

Seungkwan is different. Of course, he looks different; he’s swapped out hoodies and sweatpants for a sweater vest and jeans, and his hair is slicked kind of to the side, or maybe to the back- Jisoo can’t tell. But besides that, he’s different. He doesn’t smile as much. He’s not looking Jisoo in the eye.

Two years did more than just change Seungkwan’s clothes.

“Seungkwan, are you okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine.”

Jisoo had assumed, from the pretty beach pictures on Yuna’s SNS accounts, that Jihoon and Seungkwan were doing fine. Jihoon wouldn’t be able to stand within a four-foot radius of someone he hated. Besides, Jihoon’s lyrics had been softer lately- didn’t he get a girlfriend in May?

Looking at Seungkwan’s quivering hands, Jisoo doesn’t know if it’s a good time to bring up Jihoon.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s been going on, but Kwan, really, if you need my help-”

“Doesn’t _Seungcheol_ keep you updated?”

Jisoo almost flinches back at the venom in Seungkwan’s voice. “No, I haven’t spoken to him in over a year, actually. Why?”

Seungkwan doesn’t speak. Jisoo stares at the gelled hair, at the sallow cheeks and dark circles and wonders where things went wrong.

“What happened?”

“I hate him,” Seungkwan spits out. “I hate him so much. Him, and Jihoon, and Sojung. That’s wrong, isn’t it? I shouldn’t hate her, but I do.”

Jisoo rests a hand on Seungkwan’s. “Tell me what happened.”

“Seungcheol is such an asshole.” A tear rolls off the tip of Seungkwan’s nose, down, down to the table. “He ruined _everything_.”

The phone rings- it’s Hansol. Jisoo keeps one hand on Seungkwan’s and answers it with the other.

“Hello?”

 _“Hey, do you know where the full, uh,_ things _of laundry detergent are? The blue ones, not the red- oh, crap, are you crying?”_

“Uh- no. Just, um, not a good time. I’ll call you back later.”

_“Okay. Love you.”_

Jisoo laces his fingers with Seungkwan’s. “Love you too, Hansol.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jisoo calls Jeonghan to pick Seungkwan up. He doesn’t even know if he can call the crying mess in Jeonghan’s backseat by that name. He wears Seungkwan’s face, has Seungkwan’s voice but he’s nothing like the bright kid Jisoo used to know.

Jeonghan looks unfazed as he drives Seungkwan away, gracing Jisoo with a simple wave and no ‘hello’ or ‘welcome back’. Jisoo sighs and stuffs his uneaten burger into his bag, throwing his trash away.

He’s speed-dialling Hansol as soon as he steps outside. It’s dark, and it’s raining.

Maybe he should have asked Jeonghan to drive him home, too. He steps back into the restaurant and peers outside- he can kind of see a bus stop from here.

No answer.

His ringtone comes almost a millisecond after his dial tone. Jisoo smiles and pulls on his hood.

“Hello?”

_“Hey- sorry, I was kind of stuck in a cupboard. I couldn’t find the red detergent so I’m just going to use, like, lemon juice or something-”_

“Nope. No. Detergent’s in the fourth drawer from the top in the second kitchen cupboard from your left.”

_“Oh. Okay.”_

“What would you do without me?”

_“Apparently not a whole lot, huh?”_

There are two specks of light in the distance; Jisoo’s hoping they’re bus headlights. He squints out the restaurant window, but it’s no use.

“Listen, the bus is almost here. I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”

_“Okay. Talk to you later.”_

Jisoo hurries outside, tugging his hood closer to his face. The lights are growing brighter and- no, it’s a car. Groaning, he gets ready to walk back inside the restaurant when the car suddenly accelerates, veering through what Jisoo swears is a _lake_ next to the sidewalk and absolutely soaking his jeans from the knee down.

 _Damn_ it.

The car backs up until Jisoo’s close enough to scowl at the driver.

The car window rolls down.

“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol shouts, “I meant to brake, Jisoo, I really did, I’m so sorry- I have dry clothes at my apartment, and the bus won’t be coming for another half hour so-”

 _Double_ damn it.

 

* * *

 

 

The apartment elevator hasn’t changed much.

Freshman Jisoo could just _barely_ touch the roof of the elevator, if he went on his toes. The Jisoo today could probably reach it without stretching too much.

But he’s cold. And he’s cold because of Seungcheol, who’s standing beside him.

If the day wasn’t bad enough already.

“Jeonghan told me you were here. And then I remembered that the bus there only comes at like nine p.m. on Mondays, and I wanted to see you again.”

Silence.

“I missed you, Jisoo.”

Jisoo presses his lips together and crosses his arms and prays that he’ll survive an evening with Choi Seungcheol.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. He ignores Seungcheol’s stare.

_“Josh, you’re not home yet?”_

“No, I couldn’t catch the bus. I’m getting picked up by a friend right now. I should be home soon.”

_“Oh. Well, I’ll go to sleep, then. Good night. Love you.”_

“Love you too.”

Those three words leave a heavier silence behind.

 

* * *

 

 

“Mingyu’s out partying with his friends. Or something.” Seungcheol walks into the living room, and Jisoo finds himself playing spot-the-difference with himself.

_There used to be a red couch here. The TV’s there now._

_My X-Box was there. There was the stupid clock Seungcheol bought at a garage sale. Both gone._

_Jihoon’s hand-me-down coffee table. Gone- no, it’s in the corner. The lamp that used to be in that corner is gone, though._

“It looks nice, doesn’t it?” Seungcheol sounds proud of himself. Jisoo swallows.

“Yeah. Looks nice.”

“Pickles is sleeping in my room. That cat is getting old.”

A warm feeling spreads to Jisoo’s chest. He’d missed that stupid cat. One and a half years of no communication with Seungcheol meant one and a half years of not seeing Pickles, save blurry photos from Jihoon’s crappy Blackberry phone.

“I’ll get you clothes.”

“It’s fine. My jeans are drying anyways.” Jisoo sits down on the new couch, some floral grandma-esque thing. Probably from a thrift store.

“I’ll get us both something to drink, then,” Seungcheol says.

“Seungcheol, calm yourself and sit down,” Jisoo says. They make eye contact and grin.

“Remember when the professor-”

“Yeah.”

Jisoo bites his lip. “Um. Anyways. Just sit down.”

There’s not much room on the couch. Jisoo makes the most of his situation by sitting as far off of the side as he can.

“Hey. Um.” Seungcheol clears his throat. “Is Seungkwan okay?”

“He’ll be fine, I think.” Jisoo stares at his lap. “He’s… different.”

“Yeah.”

“He said something about… Jihoon. And Sojung. And you.”

A sigh. “Yeah. Things… haven’t been good.”

“How?”

“It’s really complicated. I wouldn’t get involved.”

“Seungkwan’s my friend, though.”

“He needs to figure this out on his own.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Seungcheol shifts uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair. Jisoo notices a new piercing, a third one on his earlobe. It looks nice. “You’re still dating that Hansol guy?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s nice?”

“Yeah.”

“You know, I heard from one of my friends that he’s not actually that-”

“Seungcheol, _don’t_.” Jisoo breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth. “I- just don’t.”

“I’m just looking out for you, Jisoo.”

“I don’t need you to.”

“But I love you.”

Jisoo shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“I’ve loved you for _years_ , Jisoo. Doesn’t that mean something?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?”

Jisoo’s ringtone echoes through their- _Seungcheol’s_ \- apartment. He looks at the screen. Hansol.

“Don’t answer that,” says Seungcheol. Jisoo looks up into big brown pleading eyes.

He turns off the phone.

 


End file.
